The Dead World
by ANNAinDreamland
Summary: She was usually left to her own devices, used to being alone and preferring it. She's curt, dislikes people and hates him. But he always finds her until one day, he was the one gone forever. Now, Soul Society isn't the same and they want to know what really happened the day ten of the top shinigami disappeared. ShinjiOC
1. Enter Junko

The Dead World

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Chapter 1

Enter Junko

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"Wake up, moocher!" A child's angry voice called out from the other side of a thin paper door. Something was being beaten against the wood, the sound of two wooden items resounding in the room. The girl behind the closed door twitched at the sound of the boy's brooms hitting the door. "Make breakfast or get out!" He yelled.

The girl stopped working on her early morning stretches and brushed nonexistent dirt off of the gray school outfit. Not that anyone could ever study while girls were forced to wear such scandalous short skirts. "Yeah, yeah," The girl's voice rang back to the brat standing outside of her door. "I'm already awake. I'll be right there." Her voice was curt and snappy, as the girl had practiced to have such a business only tone.

The thin door banged open despite the girl's assurance and from force, ricochets back slight. The redheaded punk was already standing with a broom taller than him, ready to attack. By the time he swung the head behind his head, the girl ran forward in time to meet the broom, stopping it in her clutches.

Instead, she bent over the young boy, a scowl on her pale face. "I said I'm coming," She growled out of her gritted teeth. The boy stared back with equally aggressive eyes as the girl let the broom go.

It doesn't fall. Rather, the boy wielded it like a magnificent sword; one like a knight would be expected. Still this boy was no knight and rather just some punk. "Make breakfast, moocher" He retorted, ignoring what the girl had spoken. The boy then began to laugh, one finger pointing at the girl. "After all, I heard today is your first day of high school."

"You punk!" The girl snarled and jumped at the boy. However he was already beating it down the hall before the girl could snap her hand out to grab his collar. The girl sighed and slumped against the door. She doesn't know which is worse: Being made fun of by a child or forced into high school. As she moved to close the door behind her, her reflection caught in the mirror, like a deer caught in headlights.

She looked the same as she had for years. It was as if she was a black and white photograph. Her pale skin stuck out in the fluorescent lights and her gray school outfit melded in with the white skin. Even her lips were pale in comparison to other girls. Only three things stood out from the pale skin and clothes: Long, black hair knotted in a bun at the nape of her neck, blank, black irises surrounded by the whites of her eyes and the red school tie. Her upper lip curled up at the sight. Really, if she was ice-cream, she would be vanilla. Plain and flavorless.

Meet Junko Itou. She's your average girl heading off for her first average day of high school. Nevertheless, she's not exactly your popular school girl or even your best friend. At most, you'll be lucky if she's even your acquaintance. If you don't run away from fear.

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"What is this?" Jinta snapped just as Ururu, the grateful girl, thanked me for cooking breakfast. Angrily, he nuzzled her small head roughly to shut her up. "I told you to make breakfast. Not some crap an old person eats." The child's temper is as red as his hair and I'm left sneering at him.

"Yeah? Don't eat it," I retort bitterly. "You said make breakfast, not waiter to your every want." I couldn't believe that I made this wasted food for him. Sure, it wasn't the most creative; rice porridge, dumplings and egg drop soup. Yet, there was a lot, enough for everyone and he had the audacity to complain. Urahara must have felt the anger.

He snapped a fan on top of Jinta's head, hard enough to make a small crack. "Now, now, Jinta. Junko here was so kind to make us food." At least some people are adults here and grateful. I was about to thank Urahara before he opened his big mouth again. "She is our moocher, after all. We still need to be thankful."

Ah, yes. I remembered why I hate people now.

"Hey, now," I interrupted the scruffy old man. "I help out like those two just as much." He just smiled, flipped open his fan and waved it in front of him. It's like no one hears me talking.

"Jinta, please eat Moocher's breakfast," Even Ururu begged. That's right. Even the kind one is cruel. I tried holding back my frustration by tapping the table with the tips of my fingers. I have no name. I am "Moocher".

The only quiet one was Tessai. He and I were at an unspoken agreement. He didn't hassle me. I helped out without- the majority of- complaints.

"No! This is gross," The whiner, Jinta, complained and I glared.

"Make your own fucking cereal then or I'll shut your face with my fist." It wasn't elegant or smart. On the other hand, it did make me feel better to say. Until Urahara slapped me with his damned fan. "Ow!" Jinta stuck his tongue out at me and pulled his eyelids up to show the pink underskin.

"Who are you to boss me around, moocher. You're just a…" Jinta hesitated and smirked for emphasis. My lips curled back to show bared teeth. "High school student." I howled as he burst into laughter; noisy, chaotic and loud. Just like his temper.

It didn't stop there. Ururu has begun to giggle, her pigtails bouncing with each bubble. Urahara may have hidden behind his fan but it failed to hide his amusement. Even Yoruichi the cat appeared to be laughing while she scarfed down the dumplings I had laid out on the table for her. No one had informed Yoruichi that cats don't eat on the table.

However, what really does it, more than the punk, more than little innocent Ururu, more than Urahara and his stupid fan and more than dark cat, was Tessai. Even gentle, silent Tessai cracked a smile. I'm a mockery and each of them knew it. Rage and humiliation built themselves up in me so quickly that I had no clue what it was or how to control it before my fist slammed into the dinner table. The dishes rattle while the cat and people amused themselves.

Jinta's anger was probably too common for anyone to be concerned with volatile behavior. My eyebrows twitched.

With as much grace as I could muster, I pulled back my fist and stood from my kneeling position. "You all suck," I proclaimed and tried to glide away to my bag and shoes set by the exit.

The scene was cut short by Jinta throwing out, "Moocher," after me.

"And Junko," Urahara's voice stopped me. "Girls these days don't really wear their hair like that." I couldn't look back without getting angry again so I concentrated on the exit steps away.

"So?"

I didn't feel what he did or how he did it. Nonetheless one moment my hair was in a bun. The next, my hair was flowing down my shoulders, past my chest and down to my lower hips. "That's more like it," He commented. I was frozen, already forgetting how to walk. I had to repeat to myself the motions.

Left foot forward, right foot forward, left foot forward, right food forward and grab bag. Left foot shoe, right foot shoe. Buckle both. Open door. Right foot forward, left foot forward. Close door. Left foot, right foot, left foot, right, left, right. See? It wasn't too hard. It wasn't graceful. Most importantly, I made it out of the house without killing someone, though.

The only good thing about staying at Urahara's place is that it's next to the outskirts of the town where the environment was calmer. It was nice to take a walk to the school when the day was one of those days where it's hard to stay inside. Despite summer coming to an end soon, the grass was an emerald green, still wet from the morning dew. The rising sun would soon take care of the water though for now, it was pleasant warmth with soft breezes.

I rolled back my head in order to crack my neck. "Ah, I really shouldn't let Urahara and those kids piss me off so much." I stared at white puffy clouds above my head.

"The sky's the same," I murmured, pausing to look at the expansive white and blue above my head. In all the places I've been, the sky has always been the same. It was a comforting and sad thought to know that Karakura Town was the same way. A passing car threw the reflection of the sun in my face and my hand moved to cover my eyes.

"_You don't get out much, do ya?" I peered through my pale fingers to look at the tall man speaking to me, rays of sunlight bounding off of his golden hair._

The pain in my chest was sharp and expected. It's been like this ever since I found out about his death. My…acquaintance states this was normal when death occurs in someone you care about. I believe it's because I'm partially responsible for his death. So, I'll take the pain and endure it for penitence for my wrongdoings.

And walk on. Absorb the weather, the atmosphere and the people. And maybe not thrive but live.

Even if I'm stuck in this stiff, gray uniform in shoes that cramp my toes. Even if it means I'm expected to sit in uncomfortable chairs all day long being lectured about things I have no interest in. I was in Karakura Town not for education but to find out the truth to a century old mystery.

Don't get me wrong. I valued education as much as anyone although this wasn't the type of education that I preferred. Instead of being the bored, normal teenage girl, happy to see her friends after a summer break, I was going to this school reluctantly. And honestly, I didn't even have friends and I have never been to high school before, much less Karakura high school.

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The school gates, iron wrought, were already closed by the time I came upon the high school. Leaving early should have given me a chance to get to the school on time however due to my meandering in the nice weather and one missed turn, I was late. A bell echoed past the school fence. Without breaking a sweat, I began running on the sidewalk toward the closed gates muttering, "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

An older adult in a blue uniform began to walk away from the gate on the other side. "Hey, you!" I called out, waving to him to get his attention. Cigarette in hand, he turned around and stared at me. "I need to get in!"

He took a puff from his cigarette and shrugged. "Gate's unlocked. No one really cares if you leave." The man walked away with the last words, "Let yourself in."

"Eh, really?" I grabbed the iron gate bars and with little effort, one of the doors pushed open enough for me to slip past. "But where do I go?" I yelled out to the man, too far away to care about my predicament. He just waved a hand in the air, the cigarette smoking trailing along. "Asshole," I kicked my new brown shoes into the grass.

Truth was, Urahara told me how to get to the school but not where to go after I got here. At the time, I predicted I would come to the school with a few people around but the school grounds were devoid of people. I scratched my head. This really pissed me off.

A small tap on my shoulder brought me to a halt and I turned to stare at a young guy barely taller than me. He was wearing a similar outfit to me, except a tie instead of a red bow around the shirt collar.

"If you need directions, forget it. I'm lost too," I grumbled, staring blankly at the boy. The boy laughed, rubbing the back of his head. My eyes narrowed. "It's not funny," I snapped. "I'm late and now I don't even know what my classes are."

The boy had the humility to look apologetic and smiled. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tease you but I found it funny you thought that I wanted directions. I'm Yahiko," He extended his hand toward me and I studied it. Despite the sun weathered skin, the hand was devoid of callouses and appeared small and weak. I was fairly positive that I could beat him up with one hand even if I was sick in bed.

I didn't even notice that sneer that had appeared on my face until the boy's smile dropped. I coughed the sneer away and the boy shrugged. "If you don't know what classes you have, you need to go to the office."

The boy might have been weak but suddenly, he was of use to me. I pursed my lips. "Where can I find this office," I asked, suspicious of the boy's helpfulness. Guarded black eyes stared into the boy's innocent brown eyes. "And how do you know this?"

"Uh, I go to school here," He questioned more than stated. I blinked at him, slowly nodding my head while the boy appeared unnerved. "Right, the office. Just through those front doors up there, you'll find the office windows. They'll help you there."

"Understood, thank you." I walked backwards for a second before turning, starting my way to the doors he motioned. And off I was to my first day of high school, starting with slipping through the building's doors.

The boy, was it Yamiko?, was right. Just as I entered the building, there was a short hall with two windows at the end of it facing the front doors. A small white sign read **Office** in black writing. One window was dark but another was lit enough to show an older woman resting her head on her palm. She was fidgeting with something in her left hand.

"You coming?" Her drawled voice echoed through the short hall. The bad fluorescent lighting made my skin glow paler but I was urged forward by the woman. I saw that the woman sat at a desk in front of the window as I grew closer. The way I could hear her was the small open rectangle at the bottom of the window.

Not only that but the woman continued to play with the device in her hand, a slim silver phone. I waited for her to put down the phone, an occasion that did not happen. "Name?"

"Junko Itou."

"Uh huh," The woman mumbled out of boredom. She finally lifted her head, showing the coarse gray hair the mixed with her natural black. The stranger typed something into a computer. "You're late," She remarked blandly. "You need a late note with the rest of the delinquents."

"What's that?"

"You don't know what a delinquent is?"

I rolled my dark eyes. "The late note," I explained in annoyance.

The woman threw me an incredulous look. "You get three and you get detention." My eyes furrowed at her mention of the detention cells.

"You put us in jail for being late?" Humans were so strange and cruel. How could I not realize this before? Or perhaps it was something customary for high school students only. Beat out bad behaviors early. The woman threw me a disgusted look and began to talk to herself and she typed.

"Kids these days," She was whispering. "So spoiled that if you give them detention," With a final loud crack of a button, the woman twisted her seat back toward me and paper slid out of a machine. "They accuse you of jailing them." With purple finger nails, the woman ripped the paper from the machine and shoved it through the open space through the window. "Go on," She spat.

With an open mouth, I stared at the woman in astonishment. I've felt anger before. I've shown people disrespect. But I personally had never felt such disrespect for having done nothing before today. I took the paper in my hands.

"But what do I do?" I stressed, more than likely having annoyance show on my face. The woman sighed and snapped her phone on the table.

"Have you ever been to high school before?" She frowned and stood up in a nice black suit. The woman straightened her jacket, smoothed her frazzled hair and slipped to the edge, disappearing from my line of sight.

I was left alone in an empty corridor, a computer and a rude woman's cubicle. I began to hate the sight of the woman in all the pictures she left around her workspace. "Excuse me." I demanded, leaning as close to the glass as I could to peer inside. No response. "How rude."

I stepped away from the glass just as a door next to the glass opened. With a pair of jingling keys, the woman reappeared with rushed footsteps. She closed the door, stuffed a key inside before twisting it. "Come on," Her high heels snapped against the tiled floor. "I can show you to your locker but you'll have to find your class yourself. Do you think you can manage?"

She already pushed past me, upsetting my smooth black locks of hair hanging down my side. I glared at the back of the woman. "Of course." Taking a breath of deep air, I scurried after her, the sound of my own shoes echoing in annoyance. "What do I need a locker for?"

The woman exhaled. "Really, your parents should have informed you of this."

"My parents are dead." I interjected, a frown appearing on my lips. "But if I see them, I'll be sure to inform them that you disapprove of them," I scorned the woman. The woman harrumphed at me and continued on her way.

"Here I am helping you and this is the behavior I receive." I twisted my mouth in an effort to not retort. "This school has enough delinquents and I hope that you are not just one more added to the list." This woman was really beginning to incense me. "All the delinquents either come in late and leave early so I'll know if you're a delinquent," She assured me as she eyed me up.

The staff member stopped so suddenly that I nearly ran into her back. "Here are your class's lockers. That paper has your personal locker number and key to get in it." I looked around her to look at all the closed cubbies that were present in the room. The woman's arms crossed. "Try not to lose it."

Without time for a response, the woman left me alone in the cubby hole room.

"Bitch."

I unfolded the paper to look inside of it as a key fell to the ground with a clink. Absentmindedly, I picked it up as I read. My teacher would be Miss Ochi with a list of assigned courses with my class. It advised of several clubs I could enroll it- as if- with the locker number as stated. 2829.

It wasn't really that hard to find. All of the lockers in this area were designated between 2600-2900. And as the, albeit rude, woman claimed, the key opened it. Except she never said what I needed the locker for…

Glancing around at the tasteless room, I received no tips on what I should do. "Oh, well." I closed it up again and searched for the classroom number. Might as well get this over with.

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High school must be where all the rude people stay. First, it was the man inside of the gates. Second, it was the office worker obsessed with delinquents. Then, it was the boy around the corner.

There I was. Innocently rereading the room number as I made my way to the classroom when this _guy _felt the need to push past me as he came around the corner. It nearly knocked me over just out of surprise. But I wasn't so surprised that I couldn't do something about it.

Swiftly, I pivoted on my feet, black hair swinging with force and grabbed the guy's muscular arm covered in white sleeves. I yanked him toward me, yelling, "Hey! Haven't you ever heard of so-," Shoulder length blonde hair swung in his face.

And pain.

"_How do you fight with that hair?"_

Pain.

_The little girl grabbed a chunk of his hair and pulled his head up, a sandal imprint already forming on his face._

Pain…

_The night wind blew, for a second causing our hair, one dark and one light, to mix. _

An eruption of pain in my chest.

My grip loosened on his arm. "Sorry," I mumbled, black eyes widened in shock. The guy took this chance to grumble an apology and dash off again while my world crashed.

No, not my world. That was gone years ago. Just my knees on the tiled floor. Pale fingers grasped my face, desperate eyes staring at the dirty ground. It wasn't even him. He was dead. And even if he was reincarnated, he wouldn't look the same or have any memories. He would never know the betrayal I committed. He would never even remember me. Nonetheless, it was that same, goddamn, blonde hair.

A tight bubble forced its way from my throat into a dark chuckle. Perhaps I am insane.

Then three more people abruptly ran past me, stirring up a draft so much that my hair and skirt was uplifted. "Aaah!" I yelled, grabbing my head. "Seriously?!" They didn't have the decency to stop or apologize in passing. Like I said, high school is rude.

"Hey, hey! Sado! Inoue!? Hold it!" A woman was screaming around the corner the three students appeared from. "A girl should have no problem enduring such stomach pains!" The girl with long red hair turned shortly.

"But it really hurts!"

"Hey, if you can talk while running, say sorry!" I bitterly retorted, throwing my fist toward the children. The other woman covered my voice with her own.

"Well, hurry up then! Eh, where's my transfer student?" Transfer student? My ears perked up and I bent around the corner, gazing at a black haired woman. She was looking left and right above my head.

"Um, excuse me," I motioned politely. "Did you say transfer student? Because I'm right here."

The woman gave me a strange look as I stood up, brushing the dust of my skirt. "Weren't you just a boy?" I jerked back.

"Excuse me?" I snapped a bit too harshly. "I'm fairly positive I'm a female." I was slapped on the head by a wooden ruler. "Ow!"

"Oh, well, doesn't really matter. You're that other transfer, right?" The teacher asked me, gesturing for the paper in my hand. I let her have it. What does she mean the _other_ transfer? Why aren't I _the _transfer?

"I don't know. Shouldn't you tell me?"

She glanced at the paper, shrugged and handed it back to me. "I'm Ms. Ochi. Come in and give the class a self-introduction. Though, make it brief. You're already late." I sighed. Trust me, woman. I know. I slipped past the woman just as she spoke, "Hey. Why do you have your bag? Next time, keep it in the locker."

The door was slammed shut behind me as I faced the curious onlookers before me. One guy was waving his hand. "Ms. Ochi! It isn't fair! You're nicer to Ichigo and those two than me!"

"Shut up, Asano and sit down!" The teacher slammed a palm down on the desk, startling everyone into their seats. "We have a new transfer student, today. Try to be on your best behavior and not rub your bad habits on her." The students were whispering to themselves, glazed eyes glancing over me and past.

Like I said, not much to look at.

"So, uh," The teacher coughed. "What'd you say your name was?" I inspected the rows of students, some eager at the mention of a new student and others bored. There was a girl with red glasses, the loud guy with wavy hair, a silent boy staring out the window but really, none of them stood out to me. There was no bright orange haired young man like Urahara told me. "Give us a self-introduction."

So, either Urahara lied or… No. Someone said the name Ichigo, right?

I felt a hand slap the back of my head. "Wake up!"

Scowling, I made a quick bow. "My name is Junko Itou. Please take care of me." Placing a hand on my hip, I stared at the teacher. "Where do I sit?"

The teacher, Ms. Ochi, flicked her glasses. "Eh? That's it? Come on, you can say anything." I shook my head, unsettling dark hair. Man, I really need to make Urahara pay for the trick with my hair. "Okay, okay, you can sit in the seat in the second row."

A boy stood, raising his hand. "But Ms. Ochi. That's Ichigo's seat!" A wad of paper, tossed by the teacher, hit the boy in the face and he fell back in his seat.

"Asano, I told you to be quiet," She reiterated and heaved. "Fiiine." She drawled out. "You can have the seat next to that one. Though, it's not like Ichigo's even here to complain. Anyway, take a seat, Itou. It's time for a pop quiz." The rest of the class groaned.

However, at least someone was actually referring to me by Itou!

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By the time lunch rolled around, I was mentally exhausted and Ichigo, along with two friends, had rejoined the class. My ears were buzzing, my stomach was growling and I tried to lay my head on the desk to ignore it all. I was so angry at Urahara and the others that I walked out without my lunch. I moaned as I grabbed my stomach. Only a few more hours.

"Hey, there, I'm Keigo Asano."

Man, it isn't worth getting mad at them if my stomach is the one to feel the pain.

"And this is Mizuiro Kojima. We noticed your sucky score on the quiz."

Oh, god. The pop quiz, the classes. I had never had to endure such failure when it came to grades. But this school, it was so hard.

"All of our friends dumped us and got good scores. But you, you didn't even try. So, let's be friends." I'd never even heard of some of this stuff before.

"Maybe we could share our lunches together?"

Instantly, my head was back up, a hand surreptitiously trying to wipe drool from my face. "I'm sorry," I tried to hold back a yawn. Two boys, one with hair flipped out at the end and one with wavy hair, were standing in front of me. "Did you just mention food?" The shorter boy smiled and held a lunch out in front of him. "Let's go."

I grabbed the two of them as I stood up and walked away with them.

That was how I found myself on top of the four level building, stuffing my face with vegetables and rice. "Let me get this straight," I plucked the food from my chopsticks with my lips and swallowed. "You're only talking to me because you think I'm an idiot?"

Keigo had his arms and legs crossed as he nodded his head intently. "We don't want to be around losers who actually try, like Ichigo or Chad."

Mizuiro raised his hand. "Actually, I don't mind."

"And we want you, queen of all failing students, to be our friend. Everyone knows that people who don't try are cool." Keigo finished, ignoring the smaller boy completely. Mizuiro didn't seem bothered in the least.

"Friend?" I questioned, watching only Keigo nod his head. I swallowed another bite of food. "Not interested. I'm afraid I might catch whatever makes you so stupid." Mizuiro began to laugh while Keigo clasped his hands together. "Can I keep the food?" I gestured to the bento in my hand from Keigo, taking large bites in case he said no.

Little hearts appeared in the boy's eyes. "You are the coolest girl ever."

I roughly swallowed the rice, hurting my esophagus in the process. "Is something wrong with you?"

Mizuiro began to explain, "Asano's going through a masochistic phase. It'll pass."

"Go on a date with me?" Keigo begged.

How my foot ended up kicking his face, don't ask me. Although now that the young guy was sprawled on his back, drool coming from his mouth as he passed out, it was easier to talk to the smarter guy here. I had to hand it to Mizuiro to not even flinch or care that I just shoved my shoe into his friend's face. But hey, it meant I got to keep Keigo's food.

"So, Mizuiro," I began, acting nonchalantly. "You know this Ichigo kid?" Mizuiro frown and looked at me. I liked to get straight to the point.

"Yeah, why?" I shrugged and Mizuiro gave a smirk. "Ooh," He stressed. "I get it." I furrowed my eyes. It wasn't fun to have a high school student act like this.

"What does that mean?"

Mizuiro waved his hands. "I won't tell anyone you have a crush on Ichigo."

Ew. Ew. Really, _ew_. "It's not like that," I tried to assure him but if Keigo was a masochist, this kid was a sadist.

"Mhm," The boy hummed. "That's what you'd say if it was true."

"Quite contrarily, that's what I say when it's not."

The kid grabbed his bento and stood up. "Make sure Keigo gets back to class, okay?" The boy began to walk away. I sat up straighter, gesturing to the, er, _sleeping_ boy.

"Why me?" I started grabbing my own things, not interested in sticking around with the annoying boy at my feet. Taking a nap on my desk was more preferable. Or sticking around to talk with Ichigo.

"Well, you are the one to knock him out." Technically true. The small boy waved a good bye and replied, "Plus, I have things to do."

I exhaled as the boy left and flopped on my back, staring at the blue sky. It was sort of nice up on the rooftops here. Decent sun, lovely cloud covers and the breeze was pleasant against the warmth of the sun. The best part was, few people were around considering most stayed indoors talking with friends.

However, the real work would begin soon as soon as the final bells ring. That'll be when I attempt to follow Ichigo Kurosaki and find out just who these people interested in the kid are.

Oh, yeah. I guess I should mention I wasn't a regular high school student. I'd never even been to a school before. My family taught me how to read and write. Spiritual Arts Academy taught optional classes on other topics too, although I never took too many of those. Honestly, I was the 4th seat in 13th Division of the Gotei 13. Trust me, I realize it's wordy.

I'd say it's nice to meet you but I'm only here to find out the truth of what happened 110 years ago.

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**Here's the new version! I hope it rocks! ;D**


	2. Enter the Dead

The Dead World

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Chapter 2

Enter the Dead

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"So, Urahara, let's say someone's inside their home. You want to get talk with them but you don't know them. What do you do?"

The man who had picked up the phone after two rings chuckled into the speakerphone. "Why, Junko," He stated in his mocking tone. I could see his face half hidden by that hat of his, crouched next to the floor and drawing up devious plans. "Stalking a cute little carrot top?"

My eye twitched as I lounged next to a telephone pole, eyes on the yellow and green house across the street, hiding my face behind long bangs. "Coming from you that sounds absolutely creepy," I retorted back to the older man. Then again, who knew the real ages of shinigami? "And you know why I want to talk to him." Hearing the whisk of a fan opening in the background, Urahara spoke again.

"Can't you just make friends with him in school?"

"Come on, Urahara. I'm collecting intelligence. This kid's not going to give it to me if he thinks I'm just another classmate. Thus, I need subterfuge. Although I don't know much about the human world and interaction between people," I admitted, forsaking pride.

I had tried to approach Kurosaki during school but there did not seem much time to talk with classmates. The fact I squandered valuable lunchtime babysitting an unconscious human didn't help. I thought I could try to come up to him perhaps after school but the boy had run off straight after and well, I couldn't quite show myself to the orange head after following him several blocks.

The man hummed in the background as I pressed the thin cellphone- intelligent creation, by the way, letting you speak to anyone you want in less than a minute- closer to my ear. "And you need my help," The dirty blonde spoke loftily. Annoyance surged through more uncomfortably.

"Don't make me regret asking, Urahara."

"Such a short temper will do you no good, Junko~!" Oh, great. There's nothing like advice from a man who runs a candy shop.

"You know I don't have much time to work on this," I briskly informed the man. "Can you help or not?"

"Come by the shop." Urahara's tone switched to something more business-like and for that, I was grateful.

"Be there in 20 minutes," I promised, ignoring the fact that Kurosaki's house was nearly on the opposite side of town from Urahara Shoten.

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A twenty minute sprint turned into a fifteen minute run by the time I arrive at Urahara Shoten. Personally, I was a bit proud though I couldn't quite compare myself to humans considering their disadvantage of no training. What I found when I arrived were several kinds of candy packed neatly into a tray. This tray also allowed the person carrying it to hook around their shoulders so that it would be lighter.

"_This _is your plan," I questioned, amazed at the man's foolishness. Like I imagined, Urahara was crouched to the ground, face half hidden by his hat and the other hidden by his fan. "Are you sure this works and you're not just trying to get me to sell your merchandise?"

The blonde let out an air of hurt. "Now, Junko," He admonished. "This is a human tradition for many people."

"What?" I queried harshly. "To wear stupid clothing and knock on doors to ask people if they want candy that's bad for them." I found myself slapped on the head by the man's fan. "Ow, Urahara." Tears formed in the corners of my eyes. "I told you, I'm not really a child, you know."

"You asked for my advice!" And how I regret it, I thought, as I listened to the man speak. "It's called a door to door salesman. You knock on the door and ask if they want anything."

"And if they say no, I leave?" A thin, black eyebrow rose as I looked upon the man for help.

"No, first, you tell them how much they want the candy. And why they would."

"But why would they want it?" Another slap on the head with the fan. "That's getting old quick, Urahara."

Urahara frowned and began to pet Yoruichi next to him as she licked a paw. For a shinigami, Yoruichi really knew how to act like a cat. "Do you want to talk with Kurosaki or not?"

I sighed. "Yes. I just don't understand why I have to wear this ridiculous outfit."

I wrinkled my nose as I looked down at myself. The too long khakis were alright. I just had to roll them up a couple times. However, the Urahara Shoten shirt was much too large and covered up by the pale green apron anyway. And was a hat, exclaiming Urahara Shoten again, really this necessary while my hair was pulled up into a ponytail?

"You have to look the part of you want to look realistic. Now, shoo! And don't forget to clean up the storeroom later." Urahara waved goodbye as I began to leave. "And while you're at it, sell some candy for me! Remember what I told you." I slammed the store door behind me.

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I found myself face to face with the Kurosaki residence again. I ignored the Kurosaki Clinic doors and instead, went for the door likely leading to the house. Putting a tight, toothily (as required by Urahara) smiled I knocked on the door loudly. The forced smile stayed on my face until the door opened with a pouty, black haired child standing behind it.

"What do you want?" The child, a girl by anatomy but masculine in demeanor, demanded.

Well, time for the show! "Hello!" I happily stated. "I'm from Urahara Shoten," The girl's eyes begin to narrow. "And I was wondering if you'd like to buy-" The door smashed in my face. Urahara's short lesson on door-to-door sales did not prepare me for this.

"Don't come back!" The child shouted from the other side of the door. "Creep!"

A minute later, I was back to the telephone across the street, hiding behind it as I dialed Urahara's number. He picked up at the first ring.

"Urahara Shoten at your service!" The older man exclaimed loudly into the phone.

"She fucking slammed the door in my face, Urahara!" I tried to hiss quietly in the speaker. "How am I supposed to approach Kurosaki if some she-demon is guarding the door before I can even finish speaking?" I glanced up to see if anyone was around to overhear but mostly, it was only an older woman walking a dog in the residential area.

Urahara went from perky shop owner to devious mastermind in seconds. "Ah, you must have met one of the Kurosaki sisters. That's Karin Kurosaki," He informed quickly. "Your best bet is to get her twin sister, Yuzu, the sweet one. She has brown hair." A sweat drop appeared on my head. If the she-demon had a nice sister, how were the two of them so different? And how could anyone have three children with three different hair colors?

"You could have mentioned this sooner," I grumpily stated to the person on the other side of the phone. "What am I supposed to do now?"

A flick of a fan sounded in the background. "Well~! Go knock again."

A minute later, I was back running up to the front porch before brushing bangs into a straighter fashion and knocking on the door. This time, an innocent child with bright, round eyes opened the door. She had brown hair! She was also wearing an apron with a spatula in her hand.

"Kurosaki residence! How may I help you?" The girl smiled in politeness. Ah! Yuzu Kurosaki!

A pale pink smile twitched on my face. "Hello! I'm from Urahara Shoten!" I quoted the dirty blond man from the lesson he gave me earlier. "And I was wondering if you'd like to buy some of our new selection of candy coming out soon!" I lowered the tray of candy so the young girl could see the rainbow collection of sweets I held in my arms.

The girl's eyes grew wider in delight. "Oh! There's so many to decide! I wonder if Ichigo-" Ah, yes! Continue talking about the carrot top shinigami. "-Or Karin-" The she-demon herself. "-Would want to try some!"

"Ah!" I interjected the girl before she could speak. "Is Ichigo your brother or friend?" Play dumb, like you have no idea who that is. That's what Urahara reckoned I should do.

The girl gave a big smile with white teeth. "Yes! That's my big brother! But he doesn't eat many sweets." Yuzu's smile downturned and her head lowered to the ground and chided herself. "I'm sorry. I'm not supposed to speak to strangers. Ichigo wouldn't like it if I didn't listen to our dad."

"W-wait!" I stammered, pausing the girl with an open hand as she started closing the door. She looked at me with curiosity. "You aren't allowed to talk to _any_ strangers?" I stressed. The girl placed one hand, with a spatula, on her hip and another on her lips in deep thought. How was I ever going to get more information on the kid shinigami if no one ever spoke to strangers?

"Well," The girl deliberated. "I'm allowed to talk with strangers who have injuries!" She chirped. I looked at the happy young child as I tried to understand what she meant. If someone had injuries, didn't that mean they were more dangerous and better to stay away from? The girl must have noticed my confused expression. "Our father runs the Kurosaki Clinic downstairs! Any injury you have, our dad can take care of!"

"But really, I have to go. Good luck to someone buying your candy!"

I found myself face to face with the Kurosaki front door and the fourth time I found myself hiding behind the telephone pole across the street. I was drumming fingers against the side of the candy tray.

"Okay," I mumbled under my breath. "You heard the girl. Only way they'll talk to you is if you're injured." My other hand twirled a small pocket knife I carried in my pocket. Nearly all my life, I was used to carrying a zanpakuto on my body and I wasn't used to being unarmed in a gigai. For that reason, I always kept a small blade with me. Before moving, I glanced around the street and sidewalk to make sure no one was around. It was clear.

A couple minutes later, I found myself on the Kurosaki porch for a third time. My left hand was wrapped in clean tissues as red blood covered more of the white areas. For a shinigami, it was barely a sting but to a human, hopefully more. Unlike the first two times I knocked on the front door, the time it took for the door to open took much longer for the door to open.

What I came face to face with was a young guy with a towel around his wet, orange hair while he was shirtless. Blood started to pour into my face. I've never really seen shirtless guys before. Except those from Kenpachi's squad but I'm usually too concerned about them trying to kill me to care if they don't have shirts.

"Can I help you?" Ichigo Kurosaki inquired blandly while he shook water from tendrils of hair. Too startled at the guy's half naked approach, I found myself speechless. He shrugged before glancing down, as if not recognizing me as the new girl from his class. "Oh, yeah. Enter the clinic through the glass doors down the sidewalk." I shouldn't be surprised by now that the door was closed on me yet again.

The world around me went quiet. Or rather, I was so stunned by his behavior that my ears buzzed with white noise.

"Are you kidding me?!" I roared into the empty street as birds flew away in distress from the noise.

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"Ah, it doesn't look too bad," A middle aged man, the Kurosaki father, nodded as he lifted up the bloodied tissues from my hand. He wasn't like what I expected. He had scruffy, dark facial hair and with the dark hair, he resembled his she-demon daughter although he didn't look like the other two children of his at all. He didn't act like it at all, either.

"Yuzu," He rang out to the young girl who had dashed into a nurse's outfit when her father had called for her earlier. "Get me the Novocain needle from the closet." After a few seconds, the girl reappeared with a syringe and a short needle. The girl was cute before with her politeness and barrettes. Some people would say the girl was now adorable in her nursing smock.

By the time she came, the Kurosaki father had a metal tray holding my bloodied hand as he cleaned the wound. The cut stung briefly but nothing like the cuts I would have after training against someone from Squad 11.

I glanced at the man with dark eyes, gazing into the gash was about four inches long. "It's a straight cut," The man remarked. "And clean. What did you say you cut yourself with again?" The way the man went from silly to observant gave me a sense of déjà vu. Likely, it was just Urahara. These two men seemed like one in the same.

"Um, piece of glass," I mumbled, lowering my head to avoid his gaze. Bangs filtered the sharp glow of yellow lights.

"Yuzu, can you get me some needle and stitching thread? Then you can finish cooking."

"Of course, Dad!"

I watched the perky child go back into a sanitized closet, bringing out the materials her father requested. Yuzu laid them on a clean material try, threw her smock into a laundry hamper by the door of the clinic room and disappeared.

Kurosaki sighed and threw gauzes pink from blood into a trashcan. He waited until Yuzu's made her way up a staircase. During this time, I allowed the man to press the syringe into my skin before tossing that, too, aside. "You made this cut yourself." I jerked my hand out of his own calloused ones. My hand began to go numb.

"I-It's not like that!" I stammered, staring at him with wild eyes. So much for subterfuge and collecting intel. "I told you! It was a piece of glass." As the man glanced at me, readying a needle and black thread, I felt again, this sense of déjà vu. Black eyes narrowed to stare at him suspiciously.

"Broken glass doesn't cut that cleanly. And Yuzu told me that you've been knocking on our door for a while now," Now the thread was being winded into the needle. Wait. Why would he need needles and thread? It wasn't like I was a piece of clothing in need of being sewn back together. "I understand you're young and things hurt more at that age. But if you have problems, you need to talk about them. And as a doctor, you can come to me without hurting yourself. You don't have to make injuries to do so."

Now I was certain of it. Something about the intensity of his eyes or his face that began to become more formed into my memory. "I know you," I gasped. But I couldn't quite place my finger on it. The only people I knew were shinigami and this man was human.

Just like how Urahara could, Kurosaki went from serious doctor to annoying. He gave a silly grin and threw a thumb behind him, pointing a poster of a beautiful model in the background. The woman was nearly as beautiful as Matsumoto. "Now, that couldn't be! I'm just an old man trying to raise three kids their gorgeous mother left me with." Matsumoto…

I already found myself on my feet, mouth open, and a forefinger raised to him. "You're Isshin Sh-" I tried to yell before a tanned, strong hand found its way clamped around my mouth. I was forced to sit while the older man had the intense look back on his face.

"My own children don't even know this." Kuro-, no Shiba, was quiet as he informed me of this. "I would prefer that you don't speak of this out loud. The truth should come from me." The former shinigami had his eyes on me, forcing me to be quieter. "How did you know?"

As I spoke, the man began to clear up the instruments on the metal tray. The needle and thread were put away and my left hand was the only thing left on the wheeled table. "You were Matsumoto's captain," I admitted. If I hadn't thought of Matsumoto, I never would have figured it out, most likely. "I only met you a few times but she always complained about you leaving work for her."

The man gave a humored laugh while blue reiatsu enveloped his hands. He pressed them against my injured one. "Ah, yes. I do remember you. You haven't changed your looks one bit. Rangiku was always dragging you around." And still does. Shiba's tone turned sore. "How is she?" The former shinigami focuses his eyes on my wound, quickly disappearing with a healing technique.

"Matsumoto is," I paused, eyes pained in thought. Matsumoto wasn't alright, as much as she pretended. Ichimaru's betrayal on Soul Society hurt her more than I could imagine. The cut on my hand was now gone. The man wiped the blood off with a sanitized tissue and threw it in the trash. "Okay. Shiba-"

The man cut me off quickly with a look of his eyes. "I'm no longer than man Rangiku and you knew. I'm Isshin Kurosaki now. I have three children. And you're following one." Shi- no, Kurosaki- didn't question me on whether or not it was the truth. His eyes told me he knew it was true and my guilty eyes didn't deny him. They turned to the linoleum white tiles on the ground. Traitors. "Why?"

Maybe once Kurosaki would have understood, back when he was still a captain of Gotei 13. However, this was now his child we were talking about, even if this child was a special shinigami for the same Soul Society his father left years ago. Dark eyes rose back to the older dark eyes in front of me. "It's not Ichigo I want," I assured his father. The man nodded. Maybe there was still some shinigami left inside of him. "There are people interested in him and I want to get ahold of them."

"Ah," The Kurosaki father remarked but did not say more. It was suspicious.

"You know who I mean, don't you?" I queried, amazed that someone knew the information I wanted. I suddenly felt energetic. The goal I gave myself was suddenly in my grasps and I could achieve it. "Please, help me!" With my newly uninjured hand, I clasped my hands together and bowed. "They have information possibly regarding Aizen." And… I had to pay a debt and retribution. "If you have information, please give that to me."

"No."

"What?" I protested and looked up startled at the former shinigami who turned me down so swiftly and without deliberation. The man, now a father, did not look at me as he put away his clinic equipment, cleaning down the ones with my blood on them. My heart was thumping wild in my chest as my goals vanished before me. "Why not?"

"It's not my place to tell," Kurosaki confided to me. "These people have the rights to tell their own story to those they trust."

I leaned back on the cushioned hospital bed, dejected. "Is there any way to change your mind?" The man just shook his head before motioning me to stand back on my feet while he swiped the paper on the bed off and began to clean the bed with bleach. "It seems everyone knows something about these people," My voice softly revealed. "But no one is willing to disclose information about them."

The black haired man was silent for a moment in time before he answered.

"These people were betrayed. They have the right to choose who knows this information and to tell their own story."

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That night, I found myself back at Urahara Shoten, watching around me as the two children and three adults ate the food I had prepared. I was in a particularly sentimental mood so I tried preparing a meal more appropriate for children. I gave them shrimp fried rice with egg drop soup and some cake that Tessai had prepared the night before.

Ururu and Jinta established most of the small talk, informing Yoruichi, now in human form, Tessai and Urahara about their day. I, myself, found the food was better to play with than actually eat. To be honest, I was unsettled by the information, albeit miniscule, that the former captain of Gotei 13 provided me with. I had believed that I would be looking for shinigami.

I still thought so. Although, now I was further uncomforted by the fact that someone betrayed these shinigami. The thing was, if these likely shinigami no longer kept contact with the Gotei 13, it looked like the ones who had betrayed them were likely the Gotei 13 themselves. I brought a piece of rice up into my mouth and swallowed the food tastelessly.

I was faithful to the Gotei 13 and young compared to their standards. However, even I knew of the cruel history that the Gotei 13 had lined for themselves in the past.

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"Ah, sweet little Jun-Jun!" Urahara called out, far too early in the morning for my tastes, as I walked out of one of his spare bedrooms. "How young and lively you look in that sweet school outfit." I was already twisting the strands of dark hair into a simple braid as we made our way down his hall. "Why, I can remember my days as a young school boy."

"Get to hell, Urahara," I grumbled crankily, wrapping an elastic band around the bottom of the braid. "You never had to deal with this crap. Try going to a human school were boys are more concerned about looking up your short skirt and the girls are mindlessly pumped full of estrogen. And you're secretly over 100 years old disgusted by the nonsense."

"My!" The blonde man exclaimed. "Perhaps I should try this out myself! Tell me, do you think I would look like a young, naïve school boy, trying to flip the skirts of bountiful school girls?"

"There is something wrong with you, old man." With that, I staunchly went off to my second day of human high school, intent on leaving the man behind me.

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"So, I heard you got it in for Kurosaki?"

A sigh escaped from my lips as I peered over at the vacant seat next to me, one that should have held the orange haired boy in question before glancing back at the ridiculous thing in front of me. She appeared innocent enough. Red hair, red glasses, her red ribbon tie closed around her neck though; there was a glint in her eyes. Her probing, brown eyes.

"I don't understand a thing you're saying," I mumbled under my breath. I was a morning person but not enough so that I could handle school boys and girls before the teacher came in. I came early in hopes to speak with Kurosaki but the boy had not yet appeared.

The girl lifted her glasses, causing light to flicker over the surface. "Someone," She stressed the word, "Told a friend who told my friend who told me that you want Ichigo Kurosaki, our class delinquent." The girl's arms boxed in her breasts, as if propping them up to look at. "Is it true?"

Numb. That's how my brain felt. There was no way that the girl could have been implying I wanted something romantic with Kurosaki. I knew his father half a century ago, for shinigami's sake. "Please, speak proper English. Do not presume I understand your slang." Her smile grew larger, as if by not understanding and replying back to her question, I had in fact answered something. That grin was evil, as well.

"You," The girl's words were more punctuated now, with a short pause between each. "Want to fu-," It was at that moment that another orange haired person walked into the room, amiably cheating with a dark haired friend. I sat up straighter, until I realized the student in question was Orihime Inoue, close friend to Kurosaki and now, Soul Society. This was only important because the girl in front of me changed. Her glasses flickered. Her evil grin changed to a lustful smirk. "I sense… An increase in the body to boob percentage in the room."

"I told you to speak English," I snapped. The girl paid no mind. She straightened up, whipped around with her arms reached out in front of her, as if to grab a ball. She ran forward to the two girls who had entered the room.

"Orihime~! My love-," The girl cried out as the friend of Orihime promptly roundhouse kicked the glasses girl to the ground. It was about time. "Oooh, my nose." The girl cradled the appendage as she laid on the dirty tiled floor.

"Ah! Chizuru! Are you alright?" Orihime questioned, helping the girl, now named Chizuru, to her feet. "Tatsuki, you should be more careful where you put your feet."

"Don't bother, Orihime. Chizuru's used to it by now. Right?"

The red haired girl nodded and smiled pleasantly, giving a thumbs up, blood dripping from her nose. "Right! Anything worth it for the plentiful melons you have, Orihime!" The girl must have had it bad. Or maybe she was missing half of her brain. The kick didn't deter her. It rather made her even madder for the orange haired girl. Chizuru went for the goal again.

And Tatsuki must have been a good friend. She took a dive for the naïve girl behind them and the only thing Chizuru found in her hands were Tatsuki's normal sized bosom. Chizuru gave them a squeeze while Orihime went on talking about how she hadn't brought melons in that day but if Chizuru wanted some, she could bring in a few tomorrow. Perhaps with soy sauce and ground pepper if she liked?

"Um, Orihime, did something change? You don't feel like… Oh, um, hi, Tatsuki. Bye!" Chizuru ran off to her seat before Tatsuki could attempt to kill her.

You might wonder why I would watch the inane scene unfolding in front of my eyes. One, I was trying to keep the eye on the door for a certain Soul Society approved substitute shinigami and two, I was trying to ignore one foolish boy winking at me some rows behind.

"What's going on here?" It was like my prayers were answered! Finally, the boy in question had finally arrived! At least this time, he had a shirt on and his hair was dried.

"Oh hello, Ichigo!" Orihime gave him a bright smile. "Tatsuki, Chizuru and I were talking about how I'm going to bring in melons tomorrow for lunch for everyone."

"That's nice of you, Inoue," Ichigo remarked offhandedly. My eyes zeroed in on the boy. Come and sit down. Come and sit down so I can speak for you. I was ignored.

"Thank you! But I don't know what to put on them. Perhaps soy sauce and ground pepper? Or maybe some sriracha sauce! There's some new special green sauce that would really compliment the green shade of melons." Please tell me the girl was joking. She had to be joking.

Ichigo was startled. "Wow, that's, well, actually I think I should look over my homework before class starts." Ichigo made his way closer to his seat.

Orihime laughed awkwardly, scratching her head. Ichigo was a few steps away! "You're such a good student! I'm too sleepy in the mornings to check it." Ichigo sat down! Score!

Wait. We had homework? Yeah, that's not happening. I will not get sucked into this whole high school student thing. I am one of the 4th seats of the Gotei 13. I will not get sucked into this ridiculous mess of homework! I put on my best door to door salesperson smile that Urahara taught me and turned to the boy next to me.

"Hi, Ichigo Kurosaki!" The boy turned to me with blank eyes and an eyebrow raised. Okay, tone the smile down.

"Do I know you?" Was the boy who is supposed to save Soul Society so dense? Buzzing noises filled my head as I screamed internally. No, that's a fly that landed on my nose. I swiped it away.

Some creature popped up between us and slapped Kurosaki on the back harshly. Disgust crept in my face. The boy was unfazed but gave a scowl. "This is Junko Itou," The creature stated, giving me a wink and a look that spelled out that he just saved me. From what I have no clue but I gave Asano a glare. "She just came yesterday. Come on, Ichigo, don't insult the girl." Then he bent down to Ichigo's ear to whisper. "And she's mine so don't think I'll give her up easily! Right, Junko?

"Go sit at your seat, Asano!" I exclaimed as the yell reverberated through the room and was echoed. It was the voice I saved for shinigami in my squad. And my two idiot 3rd seats. A textbook flew through the room and promptly hit Asano point on the head. "Eh, wait, did you hear an echo?"

"Miss Ochi!" Asano complained, rubbing his head. Oh, great. Now that demon teacher had shown up, frowning and pointing at Asano. It was then I realized everyone else had already taken their seats.

"I said, sit down, Asano." Asano sulked to his seat while I glared at him angrily the whole way, waiting for him to turn around and see. When he did, little hearts practically appeared in his eyes. Creep. The only chance I had to talk to Ichigo was gone. "Alright, everyone. Today we have another new student," Whispers erupted through the class until the teacher told us to quiet. "I want you on your best behavior, got it?"

Everyone grumbled understanding. The teacher with the long hair and mean throwing arm was not to be disagreed with. "Alright, kid, come on!" The door opened and walked in, no, sauntered, was a young man with short blonde hair. Ah! The rude boy from yesterday! He didn't even apologize for running into me. He began writing on the board, right to left.

"O-K, like saying 'ok'," The boy began to spell out his name and my heart froze, then restarted. I knew this voice. But there was no way. I hadn't heard it in over a century. And he was dead. There was no way. "A-R-I, kinda like the name. H, the letter, got it?" Okarih. The children in the room, restless as to know the guy's name. And anyway, it couldn't be him. His name was different. But the blonde hair was the same!

My palms grew colder and wetter. It was probably just a reincarnation, I assured myself. It happens. Once a human dies, they go to Soul Society. Once they die there, they are born again, no memories, to the human world. A cycle continues and souls are recycled. Sometimes, new souls are born, like mine and nobles mostly in Soul Society but there is no proof to that.

It's a reincarnation, I assured myself.

"I-J-N, like the Imperial Japanese Navy and H-S, short for high school."

See, his name is., I read it from the board quickly, Okarih Ijnihs. The boy finally turning around and I was stricken with a sense of déjà vu, seeing a face I had long since believed to be dead. The same face was the blond bangs and brown eyes. Calming breaths did not help the turmoil inside of me, though. Reincarnation or not, I did not expect to see the face of my once captain, especially in a high school.

"Nice to meet you all."

Miss Ochi was currently scanning the board, her finger going back or forth in the air over the words. She had no clue that I was stricken ill at the sight of the boy. It wasn't fair that someone so strong, stronger than me, had died and I lived a useless life.

"Uh, hey, Hirako, Hirako!" She called out. Blood drained from my face. Cold sweat appeared over my temples. Short, pale fingers grasped the desk. How did she know his name? The air might have been hot but I was freezing cold. As cold as death. "It's backwards!"

Okarih Ijnihs. How could I have missed that?

Shinji Hirako.

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Like I said. I'm not your normal high school student.

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Wait, Shinji Hirako was the boy who ran into me yesterday?

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**I only read Bleach translated on websites. So, I don't know how Hirako spells out his name on the chalkboard in English. I just had fun and made it up. (In the manga, he spells it out backwards and gives each syllable meaning in Japanese but that doesn't translate cleanly).**

**Anyhow, thanks for the review (;_;), follows and favorites. Leave reviews or pms to tell me how you like the story, the characters of Bleach (OOC or not) and anything you can think of. ;D**

**Dedicated to xOx ShinjiHirako xOx for all of her encouragement!**


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